


little boy lost

by mimblexwimble



Series: Innocence [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, deaged!Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-14
Updated: 2013-10-14
Packaged: 2017-12-29 09:02:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1003526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mimblexwimble/pseuds/mimblexwimble
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean's four again and nothing makes sense.</p>
            </blockquote>





	little boy lost

There's a boy sitting in the backseat of the car. Dean checked there, that's how he knows. He got on his knees and peered over the edge of the seat and the boy looked back at him. There was a funny look in his eyes. They stared at each other until the boy cleared his throat a little, and said, "Um. Do you – you could sit with me. Back here." He patted the space next to him and Dean ducked back down and turned to face the windshield again. He wanted to hide his face in Dad's jacket, but Mom always told him that it was good for big boys to be brave.

Mom's dead but Dean doesn't think that means that he should stop being brave.

 

 

 

"You okay kiddo?"

Dean blinks. The car is stopped now. He doesn't think he fell asleep, but maybe he did. He was thinking about Mom and then . . . he wasn't thinking about anything.

It's getting dark outside; the sky is purple-blue in some places. He feels cold, even though he's wearing Dad's _huge_ jacket, and shakes a little as he looks over at Daddy, who's watching him.

He looks different, like . . . tireder. But Dean knows its Dad.

"Dad?" he asks. Dad's got a hand on the car door, but he pulls it away when Dean speaks. The boy in the backseat is still there, sitting quietly. Dean can _feel_ him, even if he can't see him.

Dean leans closer to Dad and whispers, "Who's that?"

Dad glances into the backseat for a second before looking back down at Dean. "That's – that's Sam, buddy."

"Who's Sam?"

There's movement in the back and Dean squishes closer to Dad. Dad's arm comes around him.

"Sam," he says. "Your brother. Sammy."

Dean huffs. "Da- _aad_."

Dad's lips twitch up a little, like a smile, and then go down hard. He _hrrums_ in his throat before saying, "I swear, that's Sammy."

"Sammy's a baby. I'm not dumb, Dad."

"You aren't," Dad agrees. "And you're right. Sammy was a baby. And um—" He looks into the backseat again. Dean shrugs out from under Dad's shoulder and gets on his knees to peek into the back again. His knee catches on the hem of the jacket he's wearing and he almost topples over before catching his balance.

The boy in the backseat whose name is Sam ( _not_ Sammy) looks from Daddy to Dean. He scoots down in his seat a little. His cheeks are red.

"Say it was magic," Sam-not-Sammy mutters, looking at Dad.

"He won't—" Dad starts.

"There's no such _thing_ as magic!" Dean says loudly. He's getting angry now. Everyone thinks he's a dumbhead!

"See," Dad says, looking at the boy.

Dean flops back down on the seat and then – he thinks of something. His insides squirm and he feels like throwing up for a minute.

"Dad?" he says. "Dad, did you – did you lose Sammy?"

Dad looks shocked. "No, no, no, I didn't."

"Then where is he?" Dean's throat is hurting now.

The boy's head pops into view then; he's scooted forward on his seat. Dean presses against Dad again, but he doesn't hide his face. He looks at the boy in his eyes, and—

"I'm your brother," the boy says. "I'm uh – Sammy. I am. I just grew up."

"No . . . I'm still small," Dean says quietly. "That doesn't make sense."

"I know it doesn't," Sam says slowly. "But you just have to . . . trust me. Do you think Sammy would lie to you?"

"Sammy can't even _talk_."

Sam grimaces. "Well, if he could – do you think he'd lie?"

"Well, I won't _know_ until he starts _talking_."

"Just – pretend for a second."

Dean sighs and thinks about it. "No. 'Cause brothers never lie to each other."

"Exactly. And I am your brother, Dean. I promise."

The boy reaches a hand over the seat and Dean looks at it and then into the boy's face.

"I don't believe you," he says. And then he scoots over to the door and gets out of the car.

 

 

 

If Sammy was here, Dean would wait in the car to make sure his little brother stayed safe. He would make funny faces and Sammy would watch him with huge eyes. A lot of the time he would laugh or try to grab Dean's nose or something.

When Dad bends down to lift him up, Dean shrugs his arms away.

"Dean—" Dad steps forward.

"No!" Dean shouts, backing away. "Where's Sammy Dad?"

Dad looks at Sam, who's standing further away, near the car. "Buddy, I know you don't believe me, but that _is_ Sammy—"

"I want Sammy!" Dean shouts. His hands curl into fists, hidden by the sleeves of Dad's jacket.

Dad straightens up and runs a hand down his face. "Jesus," he says quietly. People are staring while they walk across the parking lot.

"Deano, please—"

"NO! I WANT SAMMY! I WANT MOMMY! I – WANT – _MOMMY_!"

"Dean—"

"WHY ISN'T SHE HERE?" Dean screams. He stamps his foot, hard, and it hurts and he starts crying, or maybe he was already crying, and this time, when Dad moves forward and lifts him, Dean doesn't fight.

"Why'd she have to go?" Dean cries. "Did Sammy go too? Why can't I go? I want to go, I want to go too, I want to _go_."

"Shh," says Dad and he wraps both arms tight around Dean, and over Dad's shoulder, through blurry eyes, Dean sees Sam, still standing by the car. He looks lost and lonely and when he catches Dean's eye, he looks at the ground.

"I've got you," Dad whispers.

 

 

 

They stand there for a long time, and Dean's feeling warm and sleepy, with his head on Daddy's shoulder, when he hears Daddy telling Sam to go get a room.

He feels Dad moving as they walk and sees a door closing behind Dad's back. He closes his eyes and sighs.

 

 

 

Dean wakes up but doesn't open his eyes.

Dad's talking. He says, "He had a few episodes like that – before. And then he just stopped talking altogether."

"You think it's gonna happen again?" Sam asks.

"I don't know," Dad says. "Not if we turn him back quick enough."

"Is there a way?"

"I don't know, Sam. I'll have to look. Usually, if the witch is dead . . ."

"But you're going to look, right Dad? You can’t just—"

"I'm going to look, Sam."

There's a hand smoothing down Dean's hair.

 

 

 

The next morning, when Dean wakes up, he's in a strange room. The curtains are open and it's a cloudy day outside. He's only in his underwear and there are no clothes anywhere in the room.

Dean pads into the living room. Sam's sitting at the dining table, reading a book. Dad is nowhere.

Sam doesn't look up, because Dean made sure to be super quiet. He gets to his knees are crawls behind the sofa to get to the other bedroom, but Dad's not there either. He's not in the bathroom, which Dean finds accidentally. Dean stops there to use the toilet and brush his teeth with his finger. Then he slips back into the living room. Sam's still there and for a moment, Dean feels funny in his stomach and wants to just go back and hide under the covers.

But that wouldn't be very brave.

"Where's my dad?" he says loudly.

Sam jumps and almost falls off his chair.

"Don’t do that!" he exclaims, once he's safely seated once again.

Dean just glares at him. "Where's my dad?"

"He's my dad too," Sam says.

"No he's not."

"Yeah – he is."

"No, he's not! He's only mine and Sammy's," Dean says hotly, folding his arms.

"I am Sammy," Sam says calmly.

" _No_ ," Dean says very slowly, "you're a liar! And that proves it! 'Cause you said brothers never lie, and you lied, so you can't be Sammy! You can only be a liar! Now tell me where my dad is!"

Sam looks at him silently for a second and then shakes his head a little. "He went to work."

Dean narrows his eyes, "Are you lying?"

"No."

"I'll kick your balls if you're lying."

Sam chokes and then laughs.

"It's not funny."

"No," Sam agrees, still grinning. "But where did you learn that?"

"What?"

"Um—"

"Kick your balls?"

Sam lips pinch together and curve upwards at the same time. He nods.

Dean shrugs. "Daddy says it sometimes."

Sam gapes. "To who?"

"To the phone," Dean says. Then he remembers that he came in here because he needs clothes and also after Michael Carson from next door lied about not stealing five dollars from the cookie jar at his house Mom didn't let Dean play with him for a week.

"I need clothes," Dean says.

"Okay," Sam says. He closes his book and stands up.

"Plus, I can't talk to you."

Sam blinks. "What? Why?"

Dean doesn't say anything.

"Dean?"

"Mmmmmm," says Dean, slapping his bare stomach.

"Yeah, clothes, I got that. But why aren't you talking to me? I'm not a stranger."

Dean sighs heavily through his nose. Maybe a little more talking wouldn't hurt. "I can't talk to you until you learn your mistake."

"My mistake," Sam replies blankly.

"You _lied_."

"Wha – no, I didn't!"

Dean glares at Sam, zips his lips with his fingers and slaps his tummy again.

Sam rolls his eyes. "Fine!"

 

 

 

Dad comes back from work and the next day, he goes to work again. Sam reads a lot and Sammy doesn't come back, no matter how much Dean prays or how many times he asks Dad.

After a few days, Dean prays that Mommy took Sam with her. She'll keep him safe. When he goes to sleep, he tries not to cry. He wishes he could climb into bed with his baby brother, who was warm and smelled good and reminded him of good, happy things and not of fires and houses that are too quiet and daddy's that sit and stare at their hands all the time.

A couple of nights into their stay at the motel, Sam sits up in the second bed in the room, and whispers through the dark.

"Dean? You wanna come sleep with me?"

Dean holds his breath, and doesn't say anything. After a while, Sam lies back down.

He doesn’t say anything, but he thinks about it.

 

 

 

Dad is shouting at Sam in the car. It started out as talking after they drove back from the diner they went to for dinner. But then, when they parked, Sam said something and Dad told Dean to please go wait for them by the room door, under the light where Dad could see him.

Watching Dad shout makes Dean want to hide. His insides shiver.

Sam is yelling back. He keeps rubbing face and pressing his fingers into the inside corners of his eyes.

Dean wonders what they're saying.

Later that night, Dean sits up in bed and says, "Hey, Sam?" but Sam doesn’t say anything. He doesn't even move.

 

 

 

Dad's got on his jacket and his boots. He has a big bag packed too.

"Where are you going?" Dean asks, watching as he sets his bag down by the door.

"I'm going to work, little man," Dad says.

"Am I coming?"

"No, you're staying with your brother."

Dean doesn't bother correcting him anymore. No one listens, anyway.

"How long will you be gone?"

Dad looks at his bag and then looks at Dean. "A while."

"How long is that?"

"I – I don't know, kiddo. Look." Dad drops to one knee, so they're eye-to-eye. "A couple of weeks ago, something happened and . . . to fix it, I need to go talk to some people. And it might take a while. Like . . . five days maybe."

"Five days?" says Dean. "So what day will you come back?" He counts carefully on his fingers. "Monday?"

"I—" Dad swallows hard, scrunches his eyes closed and then opens them again. "Yes," he says. "Monday."

"Okay," Dean says.

"Okay," Dad repeats. "So I'll see you then, buddy. Be good, okay?" He wraps Dean in a hug and Dean squeezes extra tight.

Dad stands up and he looks over Dean. Sam's standing there. His eyes are hard and empty.

"Monday," Sam says quietly.

Dad looks at Sam, then at Dean but he doesn't say anything. He ruffles Dean's hair, before picking up his bag.

He walks out the door.

Sam locks it behind him.

He stands with his hand on the doorknob for a long time afterwards.


End file.
